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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27518419">Collapse</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAsexualofSpades/pseuds/TheAsexualofSpades'>TheAsexualofSpades</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Merlin (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gen, Good Morgana (Merlin), Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, can be platonic or romantic you decide, magic decided to fuck Arthur over even more and everything is awful</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-08 05:02:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,420</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27518419</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAsexualofSpades/pseuds/TheAsexualofSpades</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Arthur collapses in the middle of the training ground Merlin’s heart leaps into his throat. He barely hears the roar of the other knights over the rush of blood in his ears as he scans the field, looking for something, anything, and rushing to Arthur’s side.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gwen &amp; Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Gwen &amp; Merlin &amp; Morgana (Merlin), Gwen &amp; Merlin (Merlin), Knights of the Round Table &amp; Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Knights of the Round Table &amp; Merlin (Merlin), Merlin &amp; Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Morgana &amp; Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>438</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>thanks to the nonny on tumblr who requested this! I hope it's what you wanted, I had fun!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1"><b>Prompt: </b>For you, a little Merlin prompt to think about if you like it! Arthur is usually the big strong one of the 2, but when he collapses one day they find out it’s because of a heart defect he was born with and that if he continues at his current pace, it will kill him. I’d like to see how Arthur would deal with having to rest more often, stay in bed longer, etc. and obviously Merlin would be so doting uwu</p>
<hr/><p class="p3">The first time Arthur collapses in the middle of the training ground Merlin’s heart leaps into his throat. He barely hears the roar of the other knights over the rush of blood in his ears as he scans the field, looking for something, anything, and rushing to Arthur’s side.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Sire,” Leon is already calling, “sire, can you hear me?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Get Gaius,” Lancelot calls over his shoulder before rolling Arthur onto his back, “Arthur, Arthur, you need to breathe, can you—“</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Merlin?” Leon pulls Merlin down by the sleeve of his tunic, even as Merlin falls to his knees. “Merlin, what’s—“</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“…lin,” Arthur mumbles, “Mer…lin…”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Gwaine makes some comment, he’s sure, but Merlin can’t hear anything other than his king. “I’m right here, Arthur, what’s—what happened, are you alright?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Arthur blinks slowly, squinting a little in the harsh light. “…’course ‘m alright, Merlin, just…jus’ need to get up.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“You’re slurring your words a little, sire,” Leon says softly, “we need to get you to Gaius.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Gaius…yes, Gaius, where is—“</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“I sent one of the others after him,” Lancelot says, helping Merlin heave Arthur into an upright position, “he’ll be here soon.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“We should get you in the shade,” Merlin says, noticing the way Arthur won’t stop squinting, “make the sun go away.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“You want to just…wave your hand and vanish the sun?” Arthur’s head turns to smile drowsily at Merlin.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Would if I could.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Can’t you?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Merlin rolls his eyes. “<em>Shh, </em>you prat.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Between the two of you,” Lancelot mutters, “it’s a wonder you managed to keep it secret.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">He doesn’t even flinch at the weak punch Arthur gives his shoulder.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Percival comes over and helps, heaving Arthur to his feet and walking towards the shade, doing a marvelous job of making Arthur look like he’s the one doing the leading. Leon barks at the others to clean up, they’re finished for today, and Elyan sees them off. He hurries over as soon as they’re gone, pulling his glove off to feel Arthur’s forehead.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“You’re warm,” he mutters, “but you have been working awfully hard in the bright sun. Gaius will know more.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Where is he,” Gwaine growls, his eyes scanning the field, “he normally doesn’t take this long.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“He’ll come,” Merlin says, his eyes still fixed on Arthur’s pale face, “he’ll come.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“It’s fine,” Arthur protests despite the fact he hasn’t been able to move on his own, “just need a moment and I’ll be right back up.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“You <em>collapsed, </em>Arthur.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“And?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“How much water have you drunk today?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Enough!”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Well, clearly—“</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“You don’t even know that’s why it happened, <em>Merlin.</em>”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“What about food?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“What are you, my mother?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Well, someone has to make sure you look after yourself.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">The knights politely look the other way. Well, no. <em>Leon </em>turns to admire the tree leaves. “Still can’t believe they came in this early.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“I expected the blooms to be gone by now,” Lancelot agrees.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">The others just appreciate the show, at least until Gaius comes across the field.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“About time,” Merlin murmurs when Arthur finally looks like he’s going to start taking this seriously.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“What happened?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“He collapsed,” Merlin says before Arthur can say anything, “in the middle of the field. I didn’t see anything.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Gaius accepts Merlin’s information with a careful nod. He leans forward and starts looking over Arthur. Arthur puts up with the examination with the patience of a child who’s been promised a treat if they sit still.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Merlin watches anxiously, for any sign of magic, of poison, of <em>anything </em>that would explain why a man in his prime would collapse. Out of nowhere. He sees nothing. Gaius pulls away and nods to Percival.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Come on, sire,” the knight says, helping Arthur to his feet, “let’s go.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">They retreat to Gaius’s rooms, only for Gaius to instruct all the knights to leave. Arthur protests first, to everyone’s surprise.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“They’re my knights,” Arthur defends, “if there is something wrong with me, they should know about it. That is their duty to Camelot and my duty to them.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“…we can inform them of it at a later time,” Gaius says, fixing Arthur with a look, “this matter is of a…delicate situation.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“I don’t care.”</p><p class="p3">Merlin glances back and forth between the two of them, unsure who to side with. Arthur, whose sense of duty keeps their circle close and whose trust in his men is enough to make <em>Merlin’s </em>head spin. Or Gaius, whose devotion to his patients and their privacy can overrule everyone in Camelot to keep them safe.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“A compromise,” Lancelot says, breaking the silence, “we will stand on the other side of the room, and then the king may decide whether or not he wishes to inform us.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">The knights follow Lancelot as Merlin makes to go with them. A hand snags his sleeve and he turns. Arthur isn’t even looking at him and yet the strength of his grip and the way his hand trembles is enough to freeze Merlin in his tracks.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">As soon as Gaius begins to explain, Merlin clutches Arthur’s arm just as hard.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“…what do you mean it’ll kill me?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Gaius bows his head. “There is not a well-known name for this type of condition, sire, not this specific one.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“There’s something wrong with my heart?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Arthur’s voice cracks on the last word.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“I am afraid so, sire,” Gaius says quietly. “Something you were born with. Worsened due to lack of acknowledgment and getting to be unavoidable.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“So—“ Arthur swallows heavily—“so what do I do? How do I get better?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“This…this is not something you <em>cure, </em>sire,” Gaius explains, “this is something you must live with.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“You’re the greatest physician in all of Camelot,” Arthur says, his voice growing steadier, “you—<em>you </em>of all people could find a way to fix this.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“This is beyond even my capabilities.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“But you—you—“ Arthur’s gaze lands on Merlin and Merlin winces. “<em>You.”</em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“No, Arthur,” Merlin says, even as it tears at his throat to say so, “I—I can’t. I don’t—there isn’t—I <em>can’t.”</em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Magic made me,” Arthur whispers, “magic—magic can fix this.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Merlin shakes his head. “I <em>can’t. </em>I don’t know <em>how.</em> And I—I don’t think we <em>can.</em>”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Arthur looks back and forth between the two of them.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Arthur has always been full of fire. Burning, smoldering, fierce, and passionate. When he fought, it blazed high, ready to light the way or burn down his opponent. When he spoke, it sparked, little flicks of light jumping high into the air, pulling everyone into the blaze. Even when he woke, the fire hums, making him warm in a way that pulls Merlin closer, holds him firmly.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Merlin stares at Arthur and watches the fire go out.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">The hand on his arm leaves. Arthur stares down at it like he doesn’t recognize it. It trembles. He closes it into a fist.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">The trembling doesn’t go away until he takes a deep breath.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“What do I do,” he asks lowly, “to stay alive?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Gaius breathes out and it’s only then that Merlin realizes he’s been holding his breath too.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“We adapt.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">It isn’t easy.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">It isn’t easy waking Arthur up later, making sure he goes to bed earlier and eats properly-spaced meals throughout the day. Every time Arthur looks like he’s being held in a cage, glancing out the window with a wistfulness that makes Merlin’s soul ache. He piles Arthur’s plates high with his favorite foods, distracts him with inane arguments, and servant gossip. When Arthur’s slower to wake in the morning, he sits on the side of Arthur’s bed and strokes his head, letting Arthur nuzzle sleepily into his leg and hum.</p><p class="p3"><br/>
“Come on,” he coaxes lightly, “let’s get you something to eat, hmm?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Fuzzy,” Arthur mumbles, “my head feels fuzzy.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Gaius said that was going to happen,” Merlin reminds, scratching his fingers lightly along Arthur’s scalp, “and it happened yesterday, remember? It went away as soon as you started breakfast.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Arthur’s eyes close and he tucks his head more firmly against Merlin. His eyes squeeze shut tightly and Merlin can’t help the soft noise that escapes his throat.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Tired…”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“I know you have to get up,” Merlin murmurs, “but it’s okay…you can take your time, no one’s going to come in here and tell you you have to go somewhere.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Arthur’s head lolls to the side, looking up at him. “Your job, isn’t it?”</p><p class="p3"><br/>
“Exactly. No one’s getting in here on my watch.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“My Merlin…” Arthur hums lazily. “Mine…”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Yours, you prat.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Arthur does eventually rise and Merlin makes sure he eats. He sits him down at the desk and starts his chores, returning to see Arthur still staring out the window a few hours later.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Training tomorrow,” he reminds cheerfully, “that’ll be nice.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Mm.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">It isn’t easy when Arthur’s not allowed to train with all of his knights. If Merlin thought spending the day with Arthur after he learned that the others go easy on him because he’s the prince was hard, this is…well.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Arthur grunts, swinging the practice staff at Leon who blocks it easily, pivoting and standing just out of the way. Arthur lunges after him and again, Leon twirls just out of range. Merlin watches as Leon’s brow furrows and his hands flex on the grip of the staff. They lock eyes for just a moment.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Leon, despite being one of the most loyal, longest-serving knights Camelot has ever known, is not one to take it easy on <em>anyone, </em>not without good cause. Merlin can count on one hand how many times he’s seen the knight do so. First was with Arthur when the prat was even more fat-headed. Second was when Merlin was forced to spar with them after he’d just recovered from a very nasty concussion. Third is now. Right now.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">He can see the frustration in Arthur’s posture and the way he deliberately leaves himself open for an attack. Leon doesn’t take it. Arthur stops, panting hard, and says he’s done for the day. Leon accepts it with a gracious nod and Arthur walks back over to Merlin as Elyan takes his place.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Merlin hands Arthur a waterskin without a word and stands there while Arthur tries to get his breath back. He places a hand on Merlin’s shoulder and Merlin freezes, waiting until Arthur eases himself down to the steps. They sit and watch the rest of the training.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“We should do shield work next,” Arthur murmurs, “even though we don’t usually carry them.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Merlin nods.</p><p class="p3"><br/>
“Gwaine needs to make sure he doesn’t overstep his left.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Merlin nods.<br/>
<br/>
“Lancelot’s been improving, he’s smoother now.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Merlin nods.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“…we should go back inside.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Merlin helps his king up and they go back inside.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">It isn’t easy when Gwen and Morgana come into Arthur’s chambers and they talk. For hours. Gwen and Merlin go and do their chores, whispering back and forth about whatever idle thing they’re talking about now, knowing that there are two siblings in a room that cannot really ever leave it.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">He’s felt it once, only once, when he walked back into the room after leaving them to talk to see Morgana standing with her back to Arthur, looking out the window, and Arthur still at the table, his fist trembling. Morgana had turned and swept past him with her cool gaze masked firmly in place. Arthur had pointedly ignored Merlin’s look and gotten back to writing something at his desk. Merlin had stood there, helpless in the cold room.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">That was the only time, though. After that, he knew they took pains to make sure they parted on better notes. Perhaps one of them noticed the way Merlin’s hands twitched or how Gwen worried at the hem of her apron. They’d caught up with each other after that night, huddled in the darkness of one of the great halls that no one would look in, their arms curled around each other as they whispered about the Pendragons, freed from Uther yet still held by his legacy.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Merlin looks at Morgana when she takes him by the arm and pulls him into her chambers.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Are you sure there’s nothing we can do?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Merlin shakes his head. He hasn’t stopped looking, not really, but he is starting to gain hope that this won’t be as bad as they think.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Morgana sits down. “Well…at least some good will come of this. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him so willing to…talk.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“…talk?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Arthur has always been one for bold, brash, dive-in-with-a-sword politics,” Morgana says, “he’s never really been one to appreciate the intricacies of trying to get things <em>done.</em>”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">She fixes Merlin with a look. “<em>You </em>know that.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Merlin does.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">This is good work. It’s work that needs to be done. Morgana’s good at it. Arthur will become good at it. They need to talk, not just about politics, but about each other. It isn’t easy but it must be done.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">So they adapt.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Merlin worries.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Arthur is not one to take hardships of any kind lying down, ever. And yet Merlin hasn’t heard him once complain about this, not in any significant way. No dragging his feet, no staying stubbornly until he collapses again, no pointlessly insisting he can do something he can’t.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Which means that something’s coming.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">It happens in the smallest of ways.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">They’re in Arthur’s chambers in the late afternoon, the sun shining in the window as Arthur squints at his work. Merlin folds the last sheet and sets it aside. The scratchings of Arthur’s quill stop.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">There’s a sharp <em>snap. </em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">The quill falls broken down onto the floor, a section of its shaft worn to breaking from heavy use. Arthur stares at it like a corpse.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">The sound of his chair scraping back makes Merlin wince as Arthur throws himself up.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“<em>Useless—“</em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Arthur!”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Merlin barely manages to stumble forward enough before Arthur’s striding out of his reach. He slams his hands against the wall. His head bows. A guttural roar builds up in his throat. Merlin winces. He can see Arthur’s muscles tense and refuse to relax. Can see the way his hands twitch for a sword. His legs for a fight. His body for <em>anything. </em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">And he can’t move anymore or he might collapse.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Useless,” Arthur growls again, “<em>useless.</em>”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Arthur—“</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“No, Merlin!” Arthur whirls around, fire in his gaze, “what good am I like this? I can’t train! I can’t fight! My own knights won’t even—I can’t—all I can do is <em>talk! </em>How am I supposed to defend my people?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“You have knights to fight for you, Arthur, you can—“</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“And what kind of a ruler would I be,” Arthur snarls, spittle flying from his lips, “if I sat on my arse in a castle while men died for me? What kind of a <em>coward—“</em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“You’re not a coward!”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Aren’t I? I’ve been sitting here—“ he waves a disgusted hand at his desk—“<em>talking </em>to people about things I <em>would </em>do while knowing damn well I won’t!”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“But that doesn’t make you useless, Arthur!”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Doesn’t it?” Arthur slams his hand against the wall again. “I can’t fight anymore! I can’t patrol anymore! What can I do? I’m just—I’m—I’m—“</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Merlin rushes forward as Arthur collapses, catching him and pulling him close. “You have to breathe,” he gentles, “come on…”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Can’t—even—<em>shout—</em>“</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Shh, shh,” Merlin says, “come on, you can yell at me all you want after you’ve breathed, come on…”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Arthur breathes, but before he’s got his breath all the way back he turns his head. “…not mad at <em>you.</em>”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“…I know.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">There’s a few moments of silence as their breaths ring in the chamber.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“…for all my life,” Arthur murmurs finally, “I’ve been known as a fighter. That’s…that’s all I was <em>going </em>to be known as. Even as a king. And now…now…”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Merlin can feel the roll of Arthur’s throat as he swallows.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Now I don’t know what I am.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“You’re a king,” Merlin says softly, “not because of your prowess with a sword, but because of your heart.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Arthur makes a noise of protest.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“No, no, you listen to me. You <em>make </em>choices based on what you think is <em>right. </em>No amount of skill with a sword can make you think differently.” Merlin’s fingers find their way unconsciously into Arthur’s hair. “You’re a good man because you <em>care, </em>not because of your fighting skill.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Merlin closes his eyes.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“You…you <em>chose </em>to do so many things, Arthur, because you knew your people. You knew your kingdom. Not because you knew your way around a sword. People don’t follow you because you fight well, they follow you because you rule well.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">He presses his cheek to the top of Arthur’s head.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“And if they stop following you because you can’t fight like you used to, then they weren’t truly loyal followers of yours to begin with.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">It isn’t easy. It probably won’t ever be easy. But as Arthur turns his face into the crook of Merlin’s neck and breathes easier than he has in a while, Merlin starts to believe it may be alright.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Merlin prompt for you, you mystical purple dragon! I am absolutely obsessed w/your vulnerable Arthur fic 'Collapse': Arthur has been going through a particularly bad spell of symptoms with his heart when there's word of enemy mercenaries camping in Camelot's forests. He wants to go with the knights to fight them off, and Merlin pleads with him not to.</p><p>thanks nonny for the prompt!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">That’s the last <em>big </em>blowout they have for a while. Arthur gets up after a few moments, stretching a little awkwardly and wrapping his arms around Merlin’s waist when he overbalances. Merlin coaxes him gently into his chair and fetches another quill, settling it in his hand and seeping the remnants away.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“No,” Arthur says when Merlin goes to throw them out, “keep them.”</p>
<p class="p2">
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</p>
<p class="p1">Merlin pauses, his hand already outstretch to throw it away. “Are you sure?”</p>
<p class="p2">
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</p>
<p class="p1">“I want to keep them.”</p>
<p class="p2">
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</p>
<p class="p1">“…alright. Where should I—“ Arthur holds his hand out— “okay.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">Merlin doesn’t ask any more questions, just gets back to his chores. Pick up the laundry basket, tuck the sheets into the corner of the bed that always seem to come untucked first. Pull back the curtains, tie them tight. Check Arthur’s armor for repairs, not that there’s been as much need for that lately. Tuck the sheet in at the corner again. Dip outside to carry the basket to the laundresses. Come back with lunch. Sit Arthur down and have him eat.</p>
<p class="p2">
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</p>
<p class="p1">“Sit with me,” Arthur says softly, catching hold of Merlin’s sleeve.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“I have to go get the—“</p>
<p class="p2">
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</p>
<p class="p1">“Please?”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“You’re shamelessly taking advantage of the fact that I can’t say no to you when you say ‘please,’ aren’t you?”</p>
<p class="p2">
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</p>
<p class="p1">“Oh, absolutely.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">Merlin sighs as he sits, watching as Arthur immediately digs into his own food with a gusto he hasn’t seen since…well.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“What,” Arthur asks, his mouth half-full, when he glances up and catches Merlin smiling at him, “is there something on my face?”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“…I haven’t seen you happy like that in a while.” He reaches out to pat Arthur’s collar back into place. “It makes me happy.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">Before, Arthur would scoff and turn back to his food, or if he were <em>extremely </em>happy, he’s toss something playfully at Merlin and say if he did his job better, he’d see Arthur like this more of the time.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">Instead, Arthur just smiles softly and the food turns bittersweet in his mouth. After a moment, he picks up a goblet of pear juice and slides it over to Merlin.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Here, you should eat too.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“I’m not that—“ the protest dies on his tongue as Arthur gives him a look— “well don’t hog all the sausages.”</p>
<p class="p2">
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</p>
<p class="p1">“Oh, going back to stealing my sausages, are we?”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“It’s not stealing if they’re going to a more worthy cause.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Putting aside the fact that you are skinny enough to be blown over by a draft of wind—“</p>
<p class="p2">
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</p>
<p class="p1">“Oi!”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“—that’s not how stealing works.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“How would you know?”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“The hours I just spent drafting laws and reading the resolutions say <em>that’s </em>how I know.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Prat.”</p>
<p class="p2">
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</p>
<p class="p1">“Idiot.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Pass the apples?”</p>
<p class="p2">
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</p>
<p class="p1">“Green or red?”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Red.”</p>
<p class="p2">
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</p>
<p class="p1">“Good. Green’s my favorite.”</p>
<p class="p2">
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</p>
<p class="p1">“I know.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">It’s not easy but it’s getting better.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">The knights, even though they still train as hard as they ever did, have altered their own routines in a way even <em>Merlin </em>disbelieves sometimes. Here’s the thing; Merlin knows the Knights of the Round Table. He knows they would die for their king in an instant and their loyalty rivals even that of Merlin’s sometimes.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">He just didn’t realize they were as willing to <em>live </em>for Arthur as they were to die for him.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">Out of all of them, Gwaine’s change is the most significant. He barges into Arthur’s chambers with a disrespect that almost shoulders Merlin’s insubordination out of the way. Gwaine waltzes in, plants a tankard of mead on the table, and props his dirty boots not he polished wood like it isn’t Merlin’s job to clean it.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“No, no,” Merlin sighs when Gwaine tracks mud all the way in, “please, ruin eight hours of work in two seconds, be my guest.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Thanks, Merlin,” Gwaine says with a wink.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“What is it this time, you forget something?”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Oh no, I’ve just got some questions for the man that thinks it’s a good idea to not give the men a day off for the rest of the week.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“You’ve just had two days off,” Arthur says with a sigh, rubbing his forehead, “and I’m also fairly certain you were groaning about having too much time off <em>two days ago.</em>”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">Gwaine shrugs. “Well, I’ve reconsidered.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">Merlin rolls his eyes as Arthur starts bickering with Gwaine. Of course, he knows why Gwaine’s doing this.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">Gwaine and Arthur have never seen eye to eye on a lot, but that sure as hell doesn’t mean the two men aren’t fiercely loyal to each other. Arthur is the first noble in a long time to earn Gwaine’s respect, and Gwaine is the first man who has absolutely refused to be anything but honest with Arthur. It’s refreshing for the both of them,</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“If you can explain why you’ve been going through shirts like Percival goes through sleeves—“</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“You try squeezing that man into chainmail without a bucket of lard!”</p>
<p class="p2">
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</p>
<p class="p1">“Where did you even <em>get </em>a bucket of lard?”</p>
<p class="p2">
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</p>
<p class="p1">“Wait,” Merlin interrupts, staring hard at Gwaine, “is this why the kitchen’s food has been—“</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Did you seriously—“</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“You’ve got no proof.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“You just said—“</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“I said no such thing.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Will you even—“</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Let you finish?” Gwaine grins broadly and takes a huge bite of an apple. “Absolutely not.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“You’re a menace,” Arthur sighs, chucking another apple into Gwaine’s open hand, “and the kitchens should ban you from the halls.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Oh, you know he and Percival will just be in the vent with a hook on the end of a string.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Wait, that was <em>you?</em>”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">Percival isn’t as brash as Gwaine, nor is he as openly talkative as the rest of the knights. Instead, he starts picking up shifts as Arthur’s guards outside his door. Merlin gets a chance to see him more often as he’s no longer training with the knights, and Percival is always close by if Arthur needs to talk to one of his knights directly. Originally, there was some push back from one of the stewards who said that it was, er, ‘unbecoming’ of a knight to ‘demote’ himself to guard duty.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">That didn’t last long.</p>
<p class="p2">
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</p>
<p class="p1">Come on, it’s <em>Percival. </em>The man’s a horse-and-a-half by himself.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">Arthur won’t say it out loud, but Merlin can see by the way his shoulders relax when they hear Percival outside that he’s happier when Percival is close. It’s hard not to feel safe around Percival, really, it is. Not only is the man easily twice the size of most would-be attackers, but he’s steadfast in a way that few men are. He’s never shy about offering his own insights when he feels they’re overlooking something important, but he chooses his words carefully. Most men of Arthur’s will say what they mean, Percival means what he says. There’s a difference there—not a big one, but a difference.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Sire,” Percival says as Arthur calls him in, “Merlin.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Hello, Percival.”</p>
<p class="p2">
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</p>
<p class="p1">“Ah! Percival! Just in time.” Arthur stands up from his desk. “How is the report coming?”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Very well.” Percival sits down, all creaking chainmail and armor, on the chair nearest the door. “I’ll have it into you by next week.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Have you spoken to the other guards?”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“I have. You were correct.”</p>
<p class="p2">
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</p>
<p class="p1">Arthur nods, looking down at the desk and furrowing his brow. “The new regimen should be about ready to go by then…of course you will look it over before it is implemented.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Of course, sire.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Well,” Arthur says, clapping his hands, “you must at least join us for a drink.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“I am still on—“</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“There is no one better to keep me safe while I am having a drink,” Arthur interrupts softly as he starts to pour, “than Merlin and one of my most trusted knights.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">And if Percival starts to go a bit red from the drink a little faster than normal, well, no one’s about to say anything.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">Lancelot offers counsel as often as he can. Merlin’s never one to turn away one of the knights at the door, nor is Arthur one to ignore the trusted word of his inner circle. Lancelot is by far the most…unchanged by the adaptation. He still addresses Arthur with the same tone as he did before, as though they’re all pretending that Arthur is taking an extended leave of absence. It’s nice, the stability of normality that keeps them all a little saner.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“And what of the people,” Arthur asks when Lancelot finishes giving an overview of the patrols that week, “do they seem…discontent? Upset?”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“On the contrary, Sire.” Lancelot shifts in his seat. “Ever since you have taken power and drawn back the guards, the people are happier. They walk about the streets with less fear, they trust the guards’ presence more in their space.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Good. And the provisions?”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Those who could not sustain themselves before have an easier time cultivating a crop. With the assurance that the citadel will not leave them to die, they have time to ensure their own success.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">Arthur nods. “And we have had no issues with people taking offense to the offers of help?”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“None whatsoever.” Lancelot bows his head. “If I may, sire, this is the most prosperous I have seen this kingdom in all the years I have been here.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“We are our people’s servants as much as they are ours,” Arthur says with a decisive nod, “we fail our duty if we do not support them.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Wiser words never spoken.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">Merlin’s doing his own little internal victory dance in the corner. The thought of Uther’s rage-filled face seeing his son meticulously undo everything he’s strived so hard to accomplish is enough to make him grin out of pure spite. And a good helping of pride.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“What’re you grinning about over there,” Arthur says suddenly, “you win a wager?”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“As a matter of fact—“</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“No, no,” Arthur says quickly, “don’t tell me. I’m not getting swooped up in Gwaine’s mess again.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">Lancelot rolls his eyes. “I’m still finding hay in my chain mail.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Me too.” Arthur shoots a glance at Merlin. “You’d think it’d be better cleaned.”</p>
<p class="p2">
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</p>
<p class="p1">Merlin raises an eyebrow. “If you think you could do better, then by all means.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">Lancelot hides his snort in his goblet.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">When Arthur is allowed to go outside—with Merlin by his right, of course, and at least one of the guards a few paces behind just to run for Gaius if need be—he typically goes down to visit Gwen and Elyan in their father’s forge. Since the…change, Elyan asked permission to take a more active role in the blacksmithing aspect of their family. Morgana, as was to be expected, allowed Gwen to work at the forge with a smile and a favor: Morgana’s armor, sat unused since Uther forbade her training, was to be repaired and ready for her to use.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">There were no objections, not that any would’ve lasted long.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">Elyan meets them at the door of the forge, smiling and wiping sweat off his brow. “Good to see you two, glad you could make it.”</p>
<p class="p2">
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</p>
<p class="p1">“Always happy to come see you,” Arthur says, clapping him on the shoulder, “by all means, show us what you have today.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Just small improvements, Gwen’s got the big things.” Elyan takes them through to the storage area, where the heat from the forge doesn’t threaten to sear their eyebrows off. Merlin’s learned his lesson. “Adjusted breastplates for the archers, different gauntlets for Percival, and a leather tunic designed to increase insulation for the colder months.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“And you say you haven’t done anything.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Oh, just you wait until Gwen’s done.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">Sure enough, Gwen emerges a moment later, tired and sweaty from her time near the open fire, but a triumphant grin on her face. She waves when she sees Arthur and Merlin. “It’s done!”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">Merlin’s eyes widen. “Morgana’s armor?”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Well, it’s got to wait a little bit until she can <em>actually </em>try it,” Gwen huffs, setting her tools aside, “but yes. That should be the last big step.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">Merlin rushes forward to seize her in a hug. Elyan just chuckles. “That’s our Gwen.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">Arthur nods. “That’s our Gwen.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Alright, alright,” Gwen mumbles, “enough. You’re all worse than Morgana.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Oh, no, she’s going to do <em>much </em>more than we are.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“I <em>know, </em>I know.” Gwen’s hands fidget a little. “…I know.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Alright,” Elyan says quickly, what else did you need to see?”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Right.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">Then there’s Leon.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">Merlin can’t really do much but watch those two, when they walk through the halls together, when they sit at Arthur’s desk and talk, when they stride in council meetings with Leon at Arthur’s left. They’ve known each other since, well, since Arthur was a boy.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">There are secrets between them, secrets Merlin would never dare ask of them, that pulls them together in a way that no one else could ever hope to understand. And that paints everything they do now in a fine shade of gray.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">Merlin can see the way Leon looks at Arthur. It’s the way he’s seen Gaius look at him sometimes when he thinks Merlin isn’t paying attention, or the way he remembers his mother looking at him. He can see the way Arthur looks at Leon, the way Merlin looks at Gaius or Gwen.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">He sees the clever way Leon is always <em>right </em>next to Arthur whenever any of the lords come to visit, ready with a hand hidden beneath the cloak or a quick word when Arthur needs a moment.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">Leon is the only person aside from Morgana that Merlin trusts enough to leave in Arthur’s chambers, alone.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">Speaking of which, there’s probably a reason Uther never let Arthur, Leon, and Morgana be alone in the same room, other than his arrogance and dismissal of Morgana as a woman.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">Between Morgana’s sharp wit and diplomatic skill, Arthur’s stubbornness and determination, and Leon’s knowledge of exactly how to make the court do what they want, it’s only a matter of time before cruel laws are being overturned and the people are happier than they’ve ever been under Uther.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">Camelot prospers under Arthur’s rule, not because of his proficiency with a blade, but his duty to his people.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">That doesn’t mean it’s not without struggles.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">When the first patrol goes out around the border, Arthur’s heading for the armor cabinet before Merlin can stop him. He opens it and starts pulling on his tunic, only to look around and realize Merlin’s not there.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Well? Help me get it on.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“You’re not going, Arthur,” Merlin says softly.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“What? Of course I am, it’s the border trip.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“I know what it is,” Merlin says, walking a little closer, “and you’re not going.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Give me one reason why you think I shouldn’t go!”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">As a response, Merlin simply nods toward Arthur’s hand on the cabinet door. Sure enough, as soon as Arthur looks, they can both see it’s starting to shake.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">Arthur swallows heavily.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“…it’s just a ride,” he mutters after a moment, “it’s not a fight.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“You don’t know it won’t turn into one.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“The border patrol is <em>safe.</em>”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Patrols are never safe.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“I <em>have </em>to go,” Arthur explodes, looking at Merlin with such ferocity that Merlin almost takes a step back, “it’s my duty, I have to—to—“</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">Merlin winces and rushes forward. He catches Arthur as Arthur starts to slump, politely ignoring the muffled curse when Arthur remembers that he can’t shout anymore.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“I have to,” Arthur mumbles brokenly, “I have to go…I <em>have </em>to go…”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Shh, shh,” Merlin hushes, “come on, breathe.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“I’m <em>fine.” </em>Arthur waves him off before Merlin can tell him that he is not, in fact, fine. “I just—I—it’s—“</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">He slumps.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Arthur?” Merlin quickly switches his grip, cupping Arthur’s face in his hand. “Arthur, can you hear me?”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“I can hear you.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">Merlin breathes a sigh of relief. “Alright. Then tell me what’s wrong.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Aside from the fact that I can’t even bloody shout anymore?”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Aside from that.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">Arthur closes his eyes, letting Merlin lean him back against the cabinet. After a moment, he opens them again.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“For as long as I can remember,” he mumbles, “I’ve—there’s…there has always been one thing I can do to protect my kingdom.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">Merlin listens, crouching down in front of him.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“If I can…if I can just <em>be </em>there,” Arthur continues, his brow furrowing, “if I can be there, if…if I can <em>see </em>what happens, if I can—if I can be another pair of eyes, ears, hands…then that’s enough.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">Outside a horse brays.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“If I was just a <em>someone </em>who saw, who could—who could try and make sure things got better because I was there, then—then that was enough.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">Arthur swallows and his eyes glisten.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“And here, I can be here. I can still stand up for those who cannot stand for themselves, I can support my knights when I can’t fight alongside them.” He glances toward the window. “But out there…when they leave…I can’t be there.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“They can take care of themselves,” Merlin reminds gently.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“I know they can, I’ve never doubted that for a second.” Arthur looks down. “But I don’t know if…”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“If what, Arthur?”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“If <em>I </em>could stand not letting them be <em>seen.</em>”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">Oh.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>Oh. </em>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">Merlin swallows heavily. Arthur…courageous, noble, <em>silly </em>Arthur.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“You see them in how you listen,” Merlin says instead, “in how you trust their judgment and seek their counsel. You see them in how you let them barge into your quarters and how you make sure they aren’t afraid to tell you when you’re wrong.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">He takes a breath and leans closer, watching Arthur’s eyes follow him.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“You see them in the way you still take Gwaine out for a drink,” he whispers, “you see them in the way you take Percival’s side in arguments, in how you never let Lancelot believe he’s any less than deserving, in the way Elyan gets to run his family’s forge with his sister by his side.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">Arthur tilts his head.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“And you see them in how Leon has <em>never </em>loved Uther the way he loves you.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">Arthur surges forward and bundles Merlin clumsily into his chest.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“You see them,” Merlin promises breathlessly as he clutches Arthur back, “and they see you, I promise, I promise.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">They stay there, curled up on the floor, until Percival knocks and immediately goes to fetch the others. Gwaine storms right over and scoops Merlin up in his arms, laughing when Percival immediately has to come over and grab Arthur too because they won’t let go of each other. Elyan sets a fire going as Lancelot tugs down a series of blankets and pillows from…somewhere, Merlin’s not quite sure. Leon has a word with the guards outside as they settle in front of the fire.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Are you alright, sire,” Lancelot says softly, “do we need to get Gaius?”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Merlin?”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“No,” Arthur mumbles as Gwaine checks in on Merlin, “no, we’re—we’re fine.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“What happened?”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">Merlin gives Arthur a nod. Arthur sighs, buries his head in Merlin’s shoulder, and explains, mumbling most of it into Merlin’s tunic.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“You’re an idiot,” Gwaine murmurs as he finishes, ruffling Arthur’s hair, “if you think <em>that’s </em>what makes us follow you.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“You’re all here for Merlin, I know.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“As true as that may be,” Gwaine says, ruffling Merlin’s hair too, “if we were just here for Merlin we’d’ve dragged him off ages ago.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“You could <em>try.</em>”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“The point Gwaine is trying to make,” Elyan says, shoving Gwaine’s shoulder, “is that we’re here for <em>you </em>too.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“And that means we won’t think any less of you. For <em>any </em>reason.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">Percival nods at Lancelot’s words, laying a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Your world is my world.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">Arthur glances around, not believing the words he hears from his knights, only for his gaze to land on Leon. Leon kneels down behind Merlin and pats Merlin’s shoulder. With one last squeeze, Merlin moves away.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">Leon opens his arms. “I’ve seen you grow,” he says, “through Uther, through Agravine, and through <em>yourself.</em>”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">Arthur stares up at him, wide-eyed.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“I’ve seen you fall, Arthur,” Leon whispers, “but I’ve also seen you <em>rise.</em>”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">It takes only a little nudge from Percival before Arthur’s hugging Leon as fiercely as he can.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Alright,” Gwaine claps, “now, have I told you lot the story of the great tavern fight in Mercia?”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Several times.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Just yesterday.”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">“You told me three hours ago.”<br/></p>
<p class="p1">“Ah, but I have yet to tell you of the <em>other </em>great battle of Mercia. You see, the lass had just brought me this incredible wedge of cheese…”</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">When the stories have run out and their cups have run dry, and Elyan and Leon have made the beds in front of the fireplace as comfortable as they can—including dragging Arthur’s truly ridiculously big mattress onto the ground too—the knights bed down, around their king.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">Camelot has never been safer.</p>
<p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading! Come yell at me on tumblr</p><p>https://a-small-batch-of-dragons.tumblr.com/</p></blockquote></div></div>
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